


Eat Me, Drink Me

by antichrist



Category: Dark Avengers (Comic), Marvel, Marvel 616
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bloodplay, Cannibalism, Knives, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pheromones, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 07:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6844510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antichrist/pseuds/antichrist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lester accidentally bites off a piece of Daken's shoulder during sex, and it escalates.</p><p>EDIT: Now self-betaed and less shitty!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eat Me, Drink Me

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Ешь меня, пей меня](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13705794) by [yennefer_of_hells_kitchen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yennefer_of_hells_kitchen/pseuds/yennefer_of_hells_kitchen)



> Completely unbetaed and I wrote this in the course of an hour and it's four AM and I'm so tired I might die. Sorry if it's the literal worst.

He’s fucking Daken from behind when it happens, his dick shoved as deep inside the mutant slut as it can go, and he wishes it were intentional. He likes hurting Daken, maiming him and watching him heal in front of his eyes, ready to go through as much physical trauma as Lester can dish out, so the fact that he never even thought about it … He’s almost embarrassed.

A particularly deep thrust, a wave of Daken’s freak pheromones, and Lester lets out an animalistic groan as he bites down on Daken’s left trapezius. Another wave of pheromones follow immediately, his jaws snap shut, and the taste of blood hits Lester like a freight train as Daken screams. He realises after a confusing second that the thing in his mouth is a piece of Daken – skin and muscle and Daken’s blood. On instinct alone, he nearly spits it out, but then Daken has whipped his head around to stare at him, all bared teeth and fury, and Lester knows he can’t bitch out now. The only option he has, then, is to look Daken deep in the eyes as he grins and swallows the piece of flesh. The bones in his hands ache as arousal washes through him. There is a sick pleasure in knowing he can shock Daken, who most of the time seems annoyingly prepared for anything. For a moment, he thinks that's it, that they'll finish without more bloodshed, but the instant he straightens up again he hears the muffled demand from the man beneath him, spat out through clenched teeth.

“Do it again.”

A maniacal grin spreads across Lester’s face. “What did you say?” His nails are digging into soft flesh, almost drawing blood, and it’s too good to stop now, fingers bruising Daken’s hips as he pulls him back again and again.

The sound that rips from Daken’s throat is a borderline scream. “Fucking do it again, bite me – fuck!”

His blades are out, Lester notices now, a reaction to the assault, and he has a brief moment of realisation that Daken could probably kill him if he wanted. He could slit his throat and fuck himself on Lester’s bleeding corpse, and he moans louder than he has anticipated, throwing one hand to Daken’s shoulder, digging the back of his thumb into the bleeding wound.

He stops the thrusting and pulling motions for a brief minute, spends a few beats catching his breath. His voice is hoarse and his breath is metallic when he grunts, “Flip over.” He wants Daken to see him.

He won’t give Daken the satisfaction of biting him like that again. Instead, he spends the seconds it takes Daken to pull off, throw himself around, and lie back in the blood with his legs wide open, hole gaping, grabbing a knife from the floor. He’s glad they’ve ended up in his room this time, where he actually has available tools. Knife in hand now, he positions himself between Daken’s eagerly spread thighs and pushes in, Daken’s hips lifting off the bed as he fills him up again. 

“Fuck, Lester …” There is a glint in his eye when Daken looks at him and smiles, which Lester hates, has always hated. Still, another rush of heat and want surges through him. He nearly sinks the blade into Daken’s thigh there and then.

“I’m not going to bite off pieces like that again,” he murmurs, close to Daken’s face now. He can’t resist the temptation to spit, small spots of blood and saliva covering Daken’s throat, and the hand that previously rested on Daken’s thigh comes up to press against his oesophagus. The blood smears under his thumb. “I’m going to carve out pieces of you. And I’m going to eat them. And you’ll watch me.” 

An animalistic groan sounds from between Daken’s lips then, and he’s nodding frantically. Sometimes Lester thinks Daken might be more fucked up than he is.  
The first cut is in Daken’s pec. It’s a deep cut, between the edges of his tattoo, made while Lester is still rolling his hips into Daken’s. He pulls at the piece after he’s cut it, ripping the last edge, making Daken snarl again, and raises it to his mouth. The sight and smell of the blood dripping from his hands to Daken’s hand on his cock nearly makes him come, but he restrains himself. Not yet. Not yet. The piece of flesh hits his tongue, and he sticks it out of his mouth, allowing Daken to see him curl it around the piece of him as it disappears into his mouth and down his throat. He doesn’t chew it.

Daken swears.

They continue like this for close to ten minutes, Lester cutting off and swallowing bits of Daken, sometimes with ink and sometimes without, while Daken pants, swears, and screams. He’s still touching himself. The amount of blood covering the bed (and Daken) is getting ridiculous, but it drives Lester close to feral, the smell and feel of the blood against his face and hands reaching something primal inside him as he fucks into the man beneath him.

He decides it’s time to end it when he notices Daken slipping. Daken’s healing factor is insane, freakish, wrong, and powerful, but he has lost too much blood to continue for much longer. Sure, Lester could wait until he finally loses consciousness, maybe cut his femoral artery and watch him bleed out, experience what it would be like to fuck Daken’s fresh corpse, but he’s getting sensitive anyway. He’s ready to come.

His last cut is to Daken’s thigh muscle, a thin strip which, when Lester drops it into his mouth, coils on his tongue in a puddle of blood. Daken says nothing, only drops his head back with a soft moan and jerks his dick frantically.

Lester drops the knife and surges, covering Daken’s mouth with his own, and he’s sure it must be the lack of blood that makes Daken think it’s safe to allow his tongue to drift between Lester’s teeth. Maybe he just wants to taste himself. This time, the bite is intentional. He feels the strong muscle resist as he clamps his teeth together, but it gives quickly enough, and just as his teeth meet, he feels the arrhythmic sensation of Daken’s hole frantically clenching around his cock as he screams, and a splash of what he can only presume is come against his stomach. The sick fuck came to the feeling of losing his tongue. A bark of laughter escapes Lester, making the muscle behind his teeth fall out of his mouth. It’s almost bizarre the way it slides down Daken’s collar bone, and when it catches on the raw, wet opening of a fresh wound, Lester drives his cock as deep as it can go, emptying himself into Daken. 

They stay like that for no more than four seconds, come and blood everywhere, their laboured breathing the only sound, and then Lester pulls out. His come trickles out of Daken’s ass, and had he been a younger man, it would have made him want to fill him again. He grabs what he knows to be Daken’s shirt off the floor beside the bed and wipes his hands and cock on it. 

“Alright, out.” He gesticulates towards the door. He knows that if he allows Daken to stay for even a moment too long, he will lose the feeling of power he is currently experiencing, and it will give way to a feeling of having been used for the twisted game Daken is playing with himself. Lester doesn’t know what it is, but he knows he’s involved.

Slowly, Daken sits up and swings his legs off the bed. His tan skin is almost completely hidden by the now dried blood he is covered in, and as he stands up, the blood cracks.

Lester doesn’t look as Daken snatches his shirt from his hand and wipes himself down, and when he finally does look at him, he sees that almost none of the blood is gone, and Daken has only gone to the trouble of putting his underwear back on. His trousers and shoes are in his hands. Quickly, before Lester can tell him to get the fuck out, or even turn away again, Daken surges forward and presses a bloody kiss to Lester’s lips.

“Fanks,” he whispers, tongueless, and the smug grin on Daken’s face as he turns from Lester and saunters towards the door leaves an unpleasant feeling in Lester’s chest.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I don't even like that Manson-album. It just seemed an appropriate title.


End file.
